


rubber, meet road

by simplecoffee



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Getting Together, Kinda, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, love language: telling people to fuck off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/pseuds/simplecoffee
Summary: He sees the look in Ice's eyes when he looks at Mav, so he kisses Mav first.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Ron "Slider" Kerner, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Ron "Slider" Kerner/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35
Collections: Limited Theatrical Release 2020





	rubber, meet road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [m_madeleine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_madeleine/gifts).



Slider's a damn good RIO, is the thing. He's proud of it, lives by it, the thrill of being in tune with Ice's needs, with the set of Ice's jaw. It's second nature now to watch Ice's back, to watch his shoulders, watch his face, to walk by his side, to figure him out. And so, the thing is...Slider knows.

Slider knows. It wouldn't be obvious if they didn't share every second of their lives, spend so much time in each other's arms, in each other's _mouths_ , but there it is. He's seen the slow change in Ice of late, in the couple of months since Maverick showed up back at TOPGUN. He sees Ice respond in kind after class when Maverick smiles and nods, sees Ice grin when they all high five after hops. He sees the look on Ice's face when Maverick walks by them at the O Club, on his way to some random civilian chick or dude or a table by himself.

It's not like he blames him. Maverick is less annoying now he's spent a few years on active deployment. He's a good wingman, still; works with Ice, not against him, on moves they can pull in the air. He still runs his mouth off, but not _all the time_ , which makes it more apparent that he's got a kind of pretty-boy look when he's not talking. Slider follows Ice's eyes, and knows what he wants.

So Slider kisses Maverick first.

He expects a clash of teeth, expects nails. _Dangerous,_ Ice's voice echoes from five years ago, _ingenious but dangerous, needs to be dragged back into line_. Maverick is soft, instead. Open, willing, leaning back and tilting his head to lick up into Slider's mouth, letting Slider press him bodily into the shower wall. He's grinning when they break, some kind of warm amusement on his face, and shrugs a little before grabbing a towel to mop his hair.

"Like what you see, Slider?" he says.

"You wish," Slider tells him, and he laughs, and offers him a fistbump before he leaves.

-

"I kissed Maverick today," he tells Ice that night. 

Ice cocks an eyebrow, doesn't stop stroking Slider's hipbone, rhythm firm and slow. "How'd he take it?"

"Pretty well," Slider says. "Think he might be up to playin' around with the two of us sometimes."

Ice takes in the information, blinks like he likes it. 

"How'd he take it?" he says again.

Slider breathes. "Easy."

"How'd you give it to him?"

"With all I got."

That eyebrow arch again. "And he still took it easy, huh."

"Didn't expect it."

"Did you like it?"

Slider freezes. 

"Did you like it," Ice says. And then, when he doesn't answer, "Was it like this?" 

He leans in, kisses him, differently than usual. Less lighthearted, more forceful, pressing Slider into the mattress with just enough of his weight, like Slider likes to do to him - like Slider did to Maverick in the shower. No hands. Just bodies touching, warm. Just like that. 

"So you wanna play around with Mav," Ice says, breath hot against his lips. "We could do that."

-

Ice plays it slow, careful, as Ice does. Slider watches his eyes, watches his plans take shape. They hang out with Maverick like they always do, laughing and joking and teasing him for his barrel rolls and chasing the kids who chase him in the air like nothing's changed.

Then, between sparring and the showers, Ice strikes. 

He tells Slider how they kissed. Shows him how he used his hands, cupping his jaw where he'd usually be touching Slider's temple, rough and dragging with his thumbs where he would be steady and firm. Tells him how Maverick broke them apart with a hint of bite, a quiet smile, a challenge dark in his eyes. _What gives, Kazansky? Nothin', Mitchell, what gives with you?_

Like the time with Slider, it seems weirdly slow and gentle, and Maverick seems to shrug it off, never mentions it - even to them. It doesn't track with Slider, but he figures he's surprised them both enough in the time since he's been back. 

Ice suggests they see which one of them can seduce him first. Slider hates that he likes the thought, hates that it makes his fingers reach possessively for Ice's waist even as he says yes, grinds up. He buries a hand in Ice's hair, messing it up just a little as they roll over, in soft revenge. Ice smiles and lets him, doesn't complain like he usually would.

"Does that give you a hard-on?" he says, trailing a hand down his back, and Slider _knows_ all pilots are little shits, really, it's just that he lets Ice get away with it, and so he does.

-

Things change. Things stay the same. Ice and Slider keep flying together, keep spending nights together under the radar, keep hanging out with Viper and Jester and Maverick off the clock and on. Sometimes one or the other of them gets Maverick alone and kisses him again just to spice things up, and he seems to take it all in stride, roll with it like he does in the air. Slider's apprehension that he'll throw off the balance between him and Ice starts to settle when their record stays as strong as ever, when the three of them go sit by the runway at night with a six-pack each and Slider gets just drunk enough to pull Ice close into his side, and Ice is just drunk enough to not resist or talk about regulations and just stay there, warm, and Maverick smiles at the two of them like he knows, and doesn't say a word.

Maverick goes through RIO after RIO, some partnerships more successful than others. Stoker isn't so bad, sometimes even joining them all at the O Club in the evenings; he falls out with Cayman terribly, and when he hears what Cayman said to him, Slider finds himself taking Maverick's side. He watches Maverick break the guy's nose when they go to the mats, and he cheers him on.

Maverick doesn't talk much at the club that night, disappears the entire weekend. It's oddly reassuring to see him back on Monday, even though he's quieter, subdued, and takes out half their graduating class without a trace of banter on the comms.

"Hey," Slider says at the club later, when he finds him alone on his second bottle of beer. "We all miss Goose, man. Cayman was outta line. I'll back you to Viper, and I know Ice will, too."

Maverick looks up, something hollow about him that Slider expected, but didn't expect to _hurt_. "Thanks. I don't think you guys need to, but thanks."

"We'd have your back for less, Maverick."

He laughs, quiet. "Shut up, Kerner, I know you hate me."

" - what? I like you fine, Mitchell. It's been years since I thought you were a dick."

"You don't have to front, man," Maverick says, but when Slider holds out his own beer bottle, he thunks his against it and drops the subject.

-

Maverick gets a new RIO. Again. And again. Like his partners, they never seem to stay. Like his partners, some leave still liking him, while some leave hating not only him but Ice and Slider too. That's just how it goes. 

Slider starts to wonder if he's in their lives to stay. He's always assumed they'd get over him eventually, or that he'd move on, even though they still sometimes idly talk about one of them fucking him. 

They grow closer, even without it. Teaching does that to you, finishing what active combat started. Maverick brings out a softer side of Ice that Slider finds himself craving, brings out an assertive side of Slider that he likes. They're a team, the three of them, Maverick and Ice playing darts and trading affectionate insults while the kids watch, Slider and Maverick doing occasional drunk karaoke, Ice and Slider sneaking home together and waking up tangled in the sheets, kissing lazily in the morning sun to grab their fill of each other for the day. All these years and Ice is still his most beautiful in the mornings, soft and mussed up before he has to get up and be perfect. He smiles more often now, lets himself loosen up more easily, and while it could just be that they're all getting older, Slider knows that Maverick has a lot to do with it, too. He looks at the cute little laugh lines starting to show up around Ice's eyes, and he can't even be mad at Maverick for it.

Slider wins their bet. Or loses it, depending - they never set the terms; Ice is sneaky like that. Mostly he just wants to know what Ice will say afterwards, but when he kisses Maverick and feels him respond, feels Maverick's hands soft and yielding in his hair, Maverick's lips and his rhythm familiar like he never thought they would be, Slider finds himself thinking he could get used to this. 

Ice purrs when he brings it up. Slider tells him everything, watches him love it, watches him drink in every detail. Then Ice leans up and over and touches him, harder and heavier and slower than usual, this too a rhythm that should not be familiar but is. Matches what Slider did to Maverick, beat for beat, note for note, pressure point for pressure point, touch for touch. Ice's words, later - Ice likes to talk things out, sometimes, after the fact, see how they tick. Deconstruct. Take things apart.

Ice proceeds to take Maverick apart.

It's a few weeks later. It's methodical, like Ice always is. It feels different, when Ice fucks Slider the way he fucked Maverick earlier that day. Different, competitive, some kind of calculated, Ice biting down on his collarbone, leaving marks across his skin like Slider's his, like they're both his. He finds himself wondering how Maverick responded, if he's doing the same things, swearing the same under Ice's mouth, if Maverick knows that Ice intends the two of them to bruise the same. Then it all turns gentler, too - apparently Maverick's a sucker for that mushy handholding shit. Slider should've figured. 

Slider shouldn't be surprised at how much he likes it, too.

Mav does see Slider's bruises that match his the next morning. He looks entirely too turned on by it, for someone who let Ice do all the work.

They've never talked about tag-teaming him both at once before. Slider knows they've thought about it. Knows Ice is thinking it, from the smirk on his face, the quiet gleam in his eye as he looks over at them in the shower. Mav doesn't catch it, and for the time being they leave it up in the air, unsaid.

\- 

They stand closer together now, in class and outside of it. Mav seems to go longer between bringing dates back to the club, and Ice and Slider talk sometimes about taking him together, or just running the idea past him. It seems bigger than the two of them, somehow, less casual, harder to say than when it's just one of them cornering him in an empty classroom or shower. 

They settle for sparring instead, more intense, a fire to it there's never been. Mav gives Ice a run for his money, but often still ends up pinned to the floor. Slider watches them. Watches with interest, thumbs stuffed in his pockets as he lounges in the bleachers pretending to be bored when he's anything but. God, they're hot. They're both hot. This might be more than he signed up for. He's thinking that when Mav laughs and yields, tags out with a tap to Ice's shoulder, and takes a little too long to drop his hand back to the floor.

Ice gives him a hand up, like he hasn't noticed. Slider knows he has. They both come back to the bench, sit close on either side of him, like they're trying to keep a distance between them but can't find it in themselves to stray too far.

"Which one of you wants to go again?" Slider asks, and they both laugh, Ice warm, Mav hot and heavy, and shit, yeah. Yeah, Slider could get used to this.

He's a damn good RIO, is the thing. Ice is the pilot he's learned to read, but Mav's getting easier to pick up on, and they're really not so different in some ways. Slider knows why they're avoiding each other's eyes, knows Mav is getting just a little jumpier around them, and he can't even blame the guy. Ice is beautiful. Who the hell wouldn't be in love with him, anyway?

Neither of them wants to go again. Slider follows them to the showers. Mav is last under the spray, but they both turn to look. There's a heavy bruise across his chest, a couple deep ones on the back of his shoulders, decidedly not of the kind caused by kissing.

Ice says what they're both thinking, his voice sharp.

"Mitchell, what the fuck?"

Mav rolls his eyes, tries to look don't-carish, but ends up looking weirdly apologetic instead. "What, you think you two are the only guys I spar with?"

"That looks like a fight, not sparring." Slider says. "Fuckin' officers don't hit like that."

Mav scoffs. "So it was a civilian at a bar, so fucking what? Don't go getting possessive on me now, Kerner, holy shit."

He completely misses Ice and Slider's exchange of glances again. There are ways in which Maverick is not smart. 

"You should see the other guy," he says, ducking under the spray without looking back, and Ice gives Slider a sarcastic shrug that hides whatever it is they both just felt, and they still don't talk about it.

-

It's been a year before they know it. Two since Ice and Slider came to teach at TOPGUN, one since Maverick came back too. Mav's between RIOs again, has been between dates and bar fights for apparently quite a while, so he joins Ice and Slider to celebrate, dramatically opening a champagne bottle with a Swiss Army knife and only cringing a little bit when the cork puts a dent in the opposite wall.

"You can call me Maverick the Magnificent," he says, sheathing the knife and pouring them each a glass, and Ice laughs, an echo of Slider's own. Slider glances over at him, sees that he's looking at Mav with the same kind of quiet indulgence that's been dawning on Slider for weeks. He reads Ice, as he always does, and his expression's an echo of Slider's own: one that says he might be growing genuinely fond of this idiot, might be in just a little bit deeper than they thought.

"Tough crowd," Mav says, blithely oblivious. "I'm tired, I've made my one joke for the night, guys. If you want me to be funny again, you can kiss me or wait till tomorrow."

There's a good-natured exhaustion in his eyes when he looks up, and Slider kind of wants to take him at his word, kiss him or let Ice kiss him, and see if that helps any. They both have years and years of practice at resisting, though, at keeping their own relationship under the radar, even though Mav clocked them long ago. Besides, Slider knows by now when Mav's being a drama queen and when he's really looking for a kiss. He's pretty sure Ice knows too.

Being drunk usually makes Mav even less likely to shut up than usual, but apparently champagne takes him right out. Ice ribs him for being a lightweight, and Mav laughs at himself for a bit before he ends up in a contented heap across the table from them, straight-up drifting in and out of sleep before the clock's even struck midnight.

"Mitchell, what the fuck," Ice says again, but this time it's gentle, slightly despairing. They act as one when they leave, put Mav safely between them, his head listing into Slider's shoulder, an arm each clutched around Slider and Ice. He tries valiantly to reorient himself, but he's pretty far gone, just managing to walk.

"Shit, Mitchell, you want me to carry you? Slider, you wanna carry him?"

"That'd be great, actually," Mav groans, too quiet. "Fuck, I'm so tired, guys. Sorry, I'm sorry - "

"Shut up," Slider tells him. "Let's get you back to your place, little guy."

" _You_ shut up," Mav grouses, but lets them manhandle him into the back seat of Ice's car, falling asleep almost immediately. They have to practically drag him out when they get there. 

They contemplate leaving him on the couch. Ice figures it's cold, and the bed is easier anyway; gets to turning it down, so Slider gets Mav-wrangling duties, which...aren't so hard, actually, when the dumbass is asleep on his feet. Slider has to hold his head when he almost collapses once too often, and Mav curls a little into his chest, puts a palm against his stomach to steady himself, and Slider kind of likes it. He's always thought of Ice as small; holding Mav like this, when he's not touching back with intent, not kissing him or deliberately frustrating him, reminds him differently. It puts him off balance in an oddly pleasant way, reminding him of when he first learned to fly, of when he and Ice first met.

They decide against getting Mav undressed, settling for getting him out of his jacket, leaving him in his sweater and jeans. Ice holds back the sheets, and they ease Mav down and cover him up, and Slider doesn't even have the heart to leave his hand in some water or draw on his face. 

"You got a marker?" he jokes lightly anyway, and Ice's mildly reproachful look is enough to tell him what he needs to know. "Hey, he's fine, Ice. We're fine. C'mon, let him sleep it off."

"Yeah, I guess," says Ice, and pats Mav's shoulder before taking Slider's arm to walk back out to the car.

Slider stops over to check on Mav on his morning run the next day. He's still asleep, now face down and completely tangled in the sheets, and is breathing and looks fairly not dead, so Slider closes his bedroom door as quietly as he can, and leaves the way he came.

"He's fine," he tells Ice that afternoon, sitting on the couch at Ice's place, pressed into his side. "Guess he really was just tired, after all."

Ice says, "You get the feeling we should've brought him here instead?"

It's crossed Slider's mind. "You wanted to, didn't you?"

"Smartass," Ice says. "Did _you_ want to?" 

Slider relents. "Yeah. Yeah, Ice, I think I wanted to. Don't know if he does, is the thing."

And that's the kicker, of course. Mav's always been willing to oblige them, but he's never said what he _feels_. They've never exactly asked him, either, what he thinks, or what Slider fears: if he prefers one of them to the other, if it's really just Ice he's in love with after all.

Slider still reads Ice, like he always does, and knows what he'll say before he says it.

"Shit," he says. "Slider, we gotta talk to him."

\- 

They wait a few days, and then invite Mav over to Ice's to watch a game. It's nothing they haven't done before at the officers' lounge, popcorn and all, but he's never been to either of their quarters before, and they hadn't been to his before hauling his drunk ass home. He takes possession of an armchair while Ice and Slider take the couch, and mostly listens to them talk all evening, smiling absently when Ice tucks an arm around Slider and Slider leans back in return. He's quiet tonight like he's never been, somehow less readable than he's been all year - perfectly polite, but shuttered, closed off, and Slider starts to wonder if Ice is going to ask what's wrong.

" - I should leave," he says abruptly during a commercial break, before either of them can ask. "I - thanks for having me, Ice, Slider, I should go. Goodnight."

"Hey, hey." Ice sits up, lets the remote fall down unheeded, bracing a hand on Slider's knee, a silent _stand by_. "Mav, what's up with you? Are you okay?"

Mav looks conflicted, shaken for a second like Slider's only seen him back in 1986. Almost like he's all teeth and nails again, almost like he's going to throw a punch. Then he takes a shaky breath, and runs his hands down his face - no nails to speak of, but it's a near thing.

"I hope you guys have had fun," he says quietly, voice carefully even, except then it shakes. "I - just stop shoving your cute domestic bliss in my face, I know you love each other, okay? I know. I know I can't - have that, with you. I hope I've made your love life more interesting, I guess, I don't know, better, more fun, but I should leave now. Don't think I can do what I've been doing any more."

They both stay frozen for a moment as Mav shakes his head and stumbles upright, puts a hand almost angrily over his eyes. Ice is the one to break the silence, reach out before he can try to leave.

"Shit, Mav," he says quietly, lets go of Slider's knee to get up and gently grab Mav's arms. Slider reads them both, and follows. "Mav. Listen. I want you to listen. When you said 'you' just now - you meant both of us, didn't you?"

Mav doesn't uncover his eyes, but doesn't move away.

" _Didn't_ you?" Ice insists, softly but in a tone that demands an answer. Maybe, Slider thinks, the RIOs reading their pilots thing goes both ways. "Mav, use your words."

"Fuck you, Ice," Mav returns, but it's tired, more out of reflex than a genuine curse. He takes a breath and drops his hand, startles a little when he sees Slider hovering in his face by Ice's side, but swallows his clear apprehension and nods. "Yeah, I meant both of you. Shit. I don't know how we got here, and I'm sorry."

"Stop being sorry," Slider says, and Ice snorts a quiet laugh, still holding Mav's arms. 

"Mitchell," Ice says, "if I told you we invited you over today so we could ask you to join us - "

"What the fuck," Mav breathes, looks up at Ice, then further up at Slider for confirmation. "Wait, what the _fuck_."

"Told you I liked you fine, Mitchell," Slider says.

"Oh my fucking god, shut up," says Mav, but he's starting to laugh, just a little bit hysterical. "Okay, how dumb have I been again? Or maybe I'm just drunk, maybe you two put champagne in the beer - those were some dreams, let me tell you, I sure fucking hope you didn't."

"No one's gonna slip you expensive wine, you idiot," Slider says, and Mav shakes his head, still reeling, until Ice solves the problem by tilting his chin up and kissing him. 

For the first time, Slider watches Ice kiss him. Watches him firmly cup his jaw, drag his thumbs along his cheekbones, watches Mav grab onto his waist and lean up and in, competitive, driven, both of them slow and deliberate and practiced, both with a hint of bite. Ice breaks the kiss, but doesn't let go of him, pulling them both into Slider's arms instead.

Slider's on standby for just that. He wraps his arms around them both, bends down to kiss the top of Ice's head, then Mav's, and Mav covers his face with his hand again, leaning into Ice's shoulder, into Slider's chest. Ice slips an arm around Slider while holding Mav with the other, warm, and it feels almost annoyingly right, like it's something they've been missing. 

Eventually, Mav reaches up to pull Slider down into a kiss, lingering and gentle. Ice turns and leans his head on his shoulder, watches lazily like he's thinking of ways to direct them later, a rhythm that's familiar even if it's new, and Slider thinks - he could get used to this.


End file.
